


A Million Dreams

by AceMoppet



Series: Man Me a Sand [1]
Category: Rise of the Guardians (2012), Yuri!!! on Ice (Anime)
Genre: And you bet your foreheads Victor is descended from him, Genderfluid Katsuki Yuuri, Heartbeats Zine 2018, M/M, Other, Sandman Victor Nikiforov, Yeah that's right y'all Sandy had kids
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-13
Updated: 2018-03-13
Packaged: 2019-03-31 02:05:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,651
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13965006
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AceMoppet/pseuds/AceMoppet
Summary: “So tell me,” the interviewer leaned in, smiling like a cat. “How is the great Victor Nikiforov in bed?”Chris grinned, smile equally catlike. “Oh,” he purred, “he's simply magical.”AKA The fic in which Victor Nikiforov is magical, is usually in bed, and none of it relates to sex whatsoever (well maybe a little bit)AKA Victor Nikiforov is a descendant of the Sandman





	A Million Dreams

**Author's Note:**

> I'm so excited to finally post this y'all! This beauty was my fic for the Heartbeats Zine of 2018, which is a non-profit pdf zine whose main objective was to raise money for their Charity: Water campaign. You can find out more information by following the blog, heartbeatszine, on Tumblr!
> 
> I just want to thank all the people in the zine, especially the mods; this was my first zine, and I had such a great time working with all of you! Thank you so much!
> 
> Finally, title comes from the song "A Million Dreams" from The Greatest Showman soundtrack.
> 
> Will there be more? Maybe. I'm thinking about making this a series if possible!
> 
> Thanks again, and please don't hesitate to poke me if I have any errors!

“Chris,” Victor said solemnly, “I have something to tell you.”

 

Chris blinked, once, twice, before flipping over to face Victor. “What is it?” he asked, worry coloring his voice. Chris had barely ever heard Victor be serious outside of skating, and he’d never heard Victor sound this… well,  _ grim _ .

 

Victor licked his lips. “It’s- well,” he paused, his eyes shifting nervously.

 

Chris sat up now. “Victor, you’re scaring me. Are you alright?”

 

“I’m fine!” Victor rushed to reassure him, almost stumbling over the words in his hurry. “It’s just. Hmm. I don’t really know how to explain it.” He trailed off, tapping a finger against his lips. Chris noticed that he tended to do that when he was knee-deep in thought or trying to figure something out. 

 

“Can you maybe show me?” Chris asked.

 

He relaxed a bit as Victor’s eyes lit up. “Yes, I can!”

 

Chris looked on curiously as Victor sat back and crossed his legs. He closed his eyes and let out a long, slow exhale. Chris tilted his head in confusion. Nothing seemed to be happeni-

 

Chris shrieked when he felt something gritty and warm brush against his hand. He looked down and gaped. There was a… glowing tentacle? And it was brushing against his wrist now. After he’d gotten over his initial shock, he peered closer, and saw that it seemed to be made of some sort of sand.

 

“Ah, sorry! I’m still learning to control myself.” Chris’s head snapped up to where Victor was sitting, surrounded by more of the sandy, glowing, tentacle. 

 

“Victor,” Chris started slowly, trying to stave off the panic that came from seeing his best friend-with-benefits look like some weird, convoluted version of a tentacle monster, “What?”

 

“Oh, well I’m a Sandman,” Victor said, licking his lips before bursting into a media-worthy smile, “Surprise!”

 

“Yeah, I think I might need more explanation than that.”

 

\-----

 

And so it turned out that the famous Victor Nikiforov, Russia’s Darling and self-proclaimed living legend, was actually a mythical creature-

 

(“Descended from a mythical creature,” Victor cried. “And is it really so mythical if Dedushka really does exist?”)

 

- _ descended _ from a mythical creature called the Sandman. Who made dreams. And babies apparently, if Victor was any indication.

 

(“There’s a whole clan of us,” Victor said, eyes shining in the faint light of the sand, which seemed to be growing gradually dimmer. Finally, they died away entirely, leaving Chris to wonder if they’d ever been there at all. And then he saw Victor’s nervous, almost fearful, expression.

 

“You’ll keep it a secret, won’t you?” Victor pleaded.

 

Chris smiled. “You needn’t have asked,  _ mon ami _ .”

 

And the expression on Victor’s face was brighter than any sandlight could ever have been.)

 

\-----

 

“So tell me,” the interviewer leaned in, smiling like a cat. “How  _ is _ the great Victor Nikiforov in bed?”

 

Chris grinned, smile equally catlike. “Oh,” he purred, “he's simply  _ magical _ .” And then he winked, cementing the innuendo.

 

_ That little shit _ , Victor thought in amusement as he watched the interview hours later back at his own apartment. 

 

_ Well, _ he huffed,  _ he's not  _ **_wrong_ ** .

 

Secretly, he knew he would have done absolutely the same thing if he was in Chris’s position, but that didn't mean he wouldn't whine at his friend the next time they talked.

 

Chuckling, he put his phone away and went to take Makkachin for a walk. Honestly, people would probably forget about the interview when the skating season started up again.

 

(Somewhere across the world in Detroit, a pair of skaters were watching Chris’s interview. When Chris’s sultry voice said those words over the tinny speaker, one Japan’s Ace choked on their sports drink. The other skater, Thailand’s Pride, shrieked and jumped up and down in circles, repeating only one phrase: “I was right! I was fucking right!”

 

Japan’s Ace could only gurgle incoherently from where they lay on the floor. Was it a response? A show of solidarity? A denial? The world may never know.)

 

\-----

 

Years passed, and though he and Chris at one point stopped sharing beds, Chris never shared his secret. Victor, for his part, showed his gratitude by showering Chris’s cat with state-of-the-art cat toys. Chris, in turn, sent him videos of his little princess playing with the not-so-state-of-the-art boxes said toys came in.

 

Chris, for all his wantonness, shared his bed with only one other person, and eventually married them. Victor got a beautiful string of postcards from him and Masumi when they went on their honeymoon.

 

Victor, on the other hand, did not share another bed. By the time he’d woken up from whatever winning frenzy he’d had since he’d started skating, everyone around him was either in a relationship, uninterested, or too young to even be skating (but they were. And they were winning so fast; he thought he’d have a little more time before his records would be broken. But as he looked at the little Yuri gliding his way across the rink, he thought, and he twinged with a sense of foreboding).

 

And so he threw himself back into skating. Back into the frenzy of skating his heart out, (or what was left of it anyway. He always gave his heart to the ice, and the ice had never given it back to him). Back into the infestations of media and journalists, (like loud little bugs, their cameras flashing like the hard carapaces of black beetles). Back into the world he’d known for most of his life, and dearly wished not to be a part of it anymore.

 

And then, in the middle of his stupor, came Katsuki Yuuri, swirling into his life like sandlight in the wind.

 

_ Oh, _ Victor’s mind whispered, as he watched Yuuri dance like their soul was aflame,  _ So that’s what a dream looks like _ .

 

And exactly a year later, with Yuuri by his side and their ring on his finger, a brighter gold than sandlight, Victor almost cried when he realized that this was his  _ reality _ . 

 

(He did cry later, when Yuuri told him they loved him in Russian, tongue tripping over the unfamiliar consonants to convey a familiar feeling. Victor could only cling to them afterwards and babble love into their neck. Yuuri only held him tighter.)

 

\-----

 

One night, Victor looked over to see Yuuri asleep next to him. He’d woken up just moments ago, fresh from a nonsensical nightmare where Yuuri left him after learning about his... secret.

 

Logically, he knew Yuuri wouldn’t leave him. Even when they’d tried to end things in Barcelona, they’d been doing so because they’d thought (wrongly) that it would make Victor happy. Victor, of course, later proved them wrong with millions upon millions of tiny kisses and pleas for them to stay. And yet...

 

And yet.

 

If Yuuri was going to become his partner, then Yuuri had to know. Victor had to know.

 

_ Tomorrow,  _ Victor thought as he watched Yuuri snuffle endearingly in their sleep,  _ I’ll tell them tomorrow. _

 

\-----

 

“You know,” Yuuri began slowly, “When they said you were magical in bed, I didn't expect this.”

 

“Ah, well,” Victor smiled nervously, rubbing the back of his neck with one hand, “Surprise?”

 

Yuuri blinked in wonder as a tendril of golden sand slowly inched over to them. It curled around their wrist curiously, poking at their pink and blue bracelet. 

 

“Ah I'm sorry-”

 

“No no, it's fine.” Yuuri waved Victor's concern away with an absent minded flick of their free hand, utterly fascinated with the sand curled around their wrist. It wasn’t tugging at their bracelet at all, rather, it seemed to swoop around the strands of thread. The grit of the sand against the sensitive skin of their wrist was vaguely ticklish, and Yuuri had to bite the inside of their cheek to keep from giggling.

 

“So these are dreams?” Yuuri asked after some time. 

 

“Kind of? More like hopes and wishes: I'm too weak of a Sandman to actually make dreams like the ones you might be thinking of. Also, I can’t really make them for other people-” Victor cut off abruptly as Yuuri’s head snapped up, eyes wide with amazement and disbelief.

 

“So, are these-are these  _ your _ hopes and wishes?”

 

Victor licked his lips, something Yuuri noticed he tended to do only when he was  _ very _ nervous. “Yes,” he whispered, softer than the wisps of sand floating around them.

 

“Oh,” Yuuri breathed, a little misty-eyed.

 

“Yuuri?” Victor asked, alarmed, “Are you alright? Oh god, I'm so sorry-”

 

“No no, I’m fine.” Yuuri sniffled and wiped their eyes with their free arm. “It’s just- they're beautiful.  _ You're  _ beautiful, Vitya.” And  _ oh  _ how Yuuri wished they were wearing their glasses right now, for even though they could see that Victor’s eyes were tearing up, it wasn’t enough. They wanted to see the detailed glaze of his eyes, the precise, golden glints against the blue of Victor’s eye, like suns in a clear sky.

 

“Yuuri,” Victor’s voice wobbled, “You're-you're going to make me cry like a  _ sap _ .  _ Again. _ ”

 

“Well then, come over here. We can be saps together.”

 

\-----

 

“Tell me more about these wishes and hopes?” Yuuri whispered, long after they’d finally turned off the lights and gone to bed. They now lay in bed, side by side, with the soft curls of sand glowing above them, rasping comfortingly as they moved.

 

Victor looked at Yuuri, saw their face lit up by the light of the wishing sand, saw the earnest gold in their gaze that was entirely Yuuri and not the sandlight floating above them, and breathed shakily.  _ My God _ , Victor thought, not for the first time,  _ I want to marry them. _

 

Quicker than the oft-thought wish had flown through his mind, a tendril of sand shot across the room like an arrow from the God of Love himself and curled around the ring on Yuuri’s finger. Victor’s heart, likewise, shot up to his throat when Yuuri looked down, bemused at the sight of the sand wrapping around their ring finger.

 

“What’s this one about, Vitya?”

 

“That's, um…”

 

Yuuri looked up from their finger, and Victor felt lightning split down his spine at the soft, curious look in their eyes. This close, Victor could see how their eyes sparkled, stars against a night sky threaded with liquid gold.

 

They smiled softly, and Victor had to hold back a surprised gasp as they took their right hand and settled it against his cheek. He shivered at the contrast of the warm, gritty sand and the cool, smooth ring, all tempered by Yuuri's soft hand.

 

“Tell me, Vitya,” they whispered, fingers gently fiddling with Victor's hair.

 

Victor licked his lips nervously. “That's me, wishing I could marry you right now.”

 

Yuuri's eyes widened, and they looked at their ring finger again in awe. “It's so bright,” they murmured reverently.

 

“Well,” Victor smiled and tried to duck his head, only to fail as Yuuri's palm was still cupping his cheek, “I do have that wish a lot. At the rink. At home. In the mornings when I wake up beside you, and at nights when you kiss me.”  _ And kiss me and kiss me and kiss me like- _

 

Like Yuuri was doing right now, pressing a kiss so sweet, with a hint of desperation so keen that Victor could only sigh and bring his hands up to cup the back of Yuuri's neck to tug them closer. He didn't close his eyes at first, but then the sand started to swirl around them, around Yuuri, and they pulsed brighter and brighter and-

 

He closed his eyes, but the lights still flashed behind his eyelids. He clung tighter and tighter to Yuuri as he started getting dizzier and dizzier drowning in his own hopes and wishes and Yuuri, who was both everything he could have dreamed of and nothing he'd ever seen in his wildest of dreams.

 

Suddenly, Yuuri pulled back and gasped. Victor whined, devastated and unbalanced, and tried to follow the pathway of their lips, but Yuuri stopped him with a soft but firm hand against his chest and a hushed plea for Victor to look down. Victor did, and his pout fell away as he saw-

 

The sand, Victor’s sand, surrounded them now. It skimmed across their skin like the hands of a lover, and they both shivered into each others’ arms as the fine grains brushed up against them. It was beautiful. And then Victor turned to see Yuuri’s face, and he died because-

 

Yuuri was covered in soft, glowing tendrils of sand. They caressed their brow, highlighted the shape of their lips, and shone in their eyes. 

 

“Wow,” Victor breathed, eyes watering from the brightness. He reached out a tentative hand and ran one finger down the slope of Yuuri’s cheek, feeling their breath catch in their throat as his finger slid over their jaw.

 

“Victor?” Victor’s eyes snapped back to Yuuri’s, so soft and vulnerable. There was something to be said about Yuuri’s eyes, and how expressive they could be. Right now, they looked at him in wonder, and Victor had to force himself to look away once he realized Yuuri had been saying something.

 

“I’m sorry love, can you please repeat that?” Victor asked, pouting in a way he knows may absolve him of his wrongdoing. Did he really do anything wrong though? Yuuri has such beautiful eyes; it’s basically a crime not to appreciate them the way they should be appreciated.

 

Yuuri only huffed slightly before asking once more, “Does this usually happen Vitya?”

 

Victor blinked, confused. “I’m not sure I follow?”

 

“Does the whole,” Yuuri spread their fingers out suddenly, and made a  _ pakew!  _ noise to simulate an explosion (and an explosion it may very well be; Victor’s pretty sure half his brain cells just died from the cuteness of that little gesture) “thing usually happen?”

 

Victor smiled and snuggled closer to Yuuri. “No,” he said, hands coming up to thread through Yuuri’s hair. “You’re special, Yuuri.”

 

“Victor!” Yuuri protested, face flushing. And oh  _ wow _ did Victor want to follow that flush wherever it led, maybe even make it grow darker with his lips. But first…

 

“Yes, Yuuri,” he brushed a lock of Yuuri’s hair behind their ear. It was getting longer, Victor noted absently, vaguely thrilled at the not-so-vague possibilities of getting Yuuri to model various hairdos. He continued, twirling the sand through Yuuri’s hair, “You must know by now you’re special to me.” 

 

And oh but did they blush harder, the pretty pink flush spilling over their cheeks and the tips of their ears. They groaned, and suddenly Victor found himself with an armful of Katsuki Yuuri, who was trying to bury their face into his chest.

 

“Yuuri!” he laughed delightedly, “You’re so cute!”

 

Yuuri petulantly mumbled something into his chest, which in turn just made Victor laugh harder. The sandlight twinkled around them, the light calmer now, and Victor marveled at how it glinted off Yuuri’s hair. The silence stretched out between them, heartbeats and breaths syncing together in a moment that neither of them ever wanted to end. 

 

Yuuri shifted then, head coming to tuck right under Victor’s jaw. “You’re special to me too,” they whispered, before pressing a soft kiss into the crook of Victor’s neck.

 

Victor inhaled sharply, tears pricking at the backs of his eyes. “ _ Yuuri _ ,” he said in awe, almost pleading, desperate for reassurance that this was real. Because this? This was everything he’d ever truly wanted, everything he’d never thought he was going to get. 

 

Yuuri pulled back, and oh.  _ Oh. _ They were tearing up too, perfect little puddles of tears amidst those perfect eyes, turning them incredibly, impossibly soft. “Vitya,” they said. And it was enough. 

 

Victor held onto them for the rest of the night like he always did. And as they slowly, softly, vanished to sleep, the sandlight watched over them, their wishes and hopes turned to the best gold they both could ever have hoped for.


End file.
